


pieces of a whole

by Woodface



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/F, Femslash February, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-06
Updated: 2015-03-06
Packaged: 2018-03-16 16:03:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3494441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Woodface/pseuds/Woodface
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maria doesn't remember the first memory she shared with her soulmate. She was barely six years old, and her grandmother slept in her bedroom with her for a month after.</p>
            </blockquote>





	pieces of a whole

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thanks to avesnongrata for the beta and distaff for the feedback.

**·6·**

Maria doesn't remember the first memory she shared with her soulmate. She was barely six years old, and her grandmother slept in her bedroom with her for a month after. She doesn't remember the memory, but she remembers the dreams that came after. She remembers the fear and the loneliness, and Yaya's quiet concern at each of them.

She remembers how they shared the loneliness when Yaya was no longer there, and she wondered if her soulmate could feel her grief as keenly as Maria felt her desperation.

 

**·8·**

There's no way of knowing what memories her soulmate receives from her, but Yaya said that maybe if she's brave, she could influence it. So she thinks of her soulmate when she makes drawings, the sun golden in the corner of her paper. She thinks of her when she eats chocolate cake or drinks fresh lemonade. She thinks of her when she sees a falling star.

She tries to forget about her when her father is passed out on the couch, the air in the room stale with alcohol. His mouth is agape, his breathing heavy and Maria tries not to think of the last memory from her soulmate. The man in it had the same cruel lines around his mouth as her father does, but she's never seen him before and she tries to forget how he stared up at her with glassy eyes. _Unmoving._

The memories become less frequent after that, as if her soulmate has learned to control them even if that's not how this is supposed to work.

It's lonely.

 

**·14·**

She's fourteen and she's in the middle of a boxing competition when a memory so vivid hits her that she forgets where she is. The boxing ring is gone, replaced by plains of snow and pine trees. Her feet sink deep into the snow with every step she takes. She's running, her lungs burning with the cold. The snow keeps tripping her up, and every time she pushes up, she's a bit more soaked. The coat she's wearing is much too thin, but she doesn't care. She's running as fast as she can.

_Away. Away._

A hound bays behind her, and she stumbles. Tears are frozen to her face, and she's begging in a language she doesn't know. _Please. Please. Please. Don't let them find me._

There is no mercy, and Maria's ears are ringing as she stares up at the harsh fluorescent lights above the boxing ring.

 

**·16·**

When she hears others talk about their shared memories, none of them sound quite as intense as the connection Maria feels. They talk about normal, almost mundane, things they share. Happy things.

When they ask her, she lies. "No. I don't think I have a soulmate."

She feels horrible, but she can't explain it to them. To anyone. She can't explain how she takes comfort from this broken person's memories. She can't explain that even when what she sees is horrible, she's grateful because her soulmate lives.

 

**·17·**

"Do you still have those dreams?" her father asks her one time. He must be drunk because he actually looks worried.

"No." It's not even lie. They're not dreams.

"Good," he nods. "Better off without."

"Is that how you think of mom?" she asks. She knows it's a mistake, but she doesn't care. She watches his temper flare, watches it turn his face into something ugly.

She ducks the blow that follows and runs up to her room, locking the door behind her. She instantly turns on her music until she can feel the bass vibrate in her lungs and she can't hear him yelling anymore.

 

**·17·**

When she fills in her application to West Point, Maria lies on the soulmate section. She knows they'll ask and she can't tell them everything she's seen, everything she knows her soulmate has done. She's about to sign her life away to the Army, but she can't sign away her soulmate.

She lies awake that night, guilt gnawing at her. The memories she carries should be terrifying. She should be appalled, and she can't explain why she isn't. Perhaps it's a matter of being so used to them, or maybe it's because, while she doesn't know her soulmate, she can _feel_ her.

She can feel her because her soulmate is hers. She's as much hers as her memories already are, and Maria can't imagine her life without either of them - can't imagine her life with them either.

It doesn't make the guilt go away.

 

**·20·**

It's a small miracle it didn't happen sooner. Maria knows it just as surely as she knows this is not the first time for her soulmate. That doesn't stop the images from taking her by surprise. She doesn't want to see this, doesn't want to hear the low moans of the man who is touching her soulmate. She can't even begin to understand the myriad of emotions, the blend of desire and repulsion.

Maria does the only thing she can think of: she gets drunk off her ass. She ends up throwing up in a classmate's bathroom and passing out on the floor. When she wakes up, her friend has draped a blanket over her. She's grateful for the whole two seconds it takes for her to notice the splitting headache pounding away right behind her eyes.

She hates everything in that moment. Her father for doing this every day. Herself for being no better than him, and for still feeling the jealousy rise like bile in her throat.

She hates her soulmate, who never felt further away.

 

**·23·**

They've both killed now.

Despite all the memories, she's not prepared for it. The weight of her gun becomes a ghost in her hands. The sound of the body hitting the ground with a wet thump follows her into her dreams, and the sharp scent of death doesn't go away no matter how long she scrubs at her skin.

Killing is ugly. It tears off a chunk of the soul, and she wonders if in all this time, that's what has been happening to her soulmate. Whether these memories they share are pieces of each other that they can no longer hold on to.

She wonders if her soulmate holds on to her memories as tightly as Maria holds on to hers. She wonders if it's enough for them to make each other whole again.

 

**·28·**

There is no snow this time. There are no dogs baying behind her, but the feeling is similar and it pulls Maria from her sleep.

She's running, feet pounding on the cement floor. Her mind is scattered, but she remembers where she's going. There's blood on her hands as she grips the blade tightly. There's blood on her clothes and blood on her chin. It's not hers, it's _his_.

She's running, but she has a destination. She has a web stretching further than even they know. This time she'll get away. This time she'll make it and she'll be free of them.

Or she'll die.

She can't die. Her soulmate already lost too much.

The thought is jarring, and Maria jerks back from it. The monitor beside her bed beeps rapidly and Maria squeezes her eyes shut. There's a dull ache in her leg, but it's nothing compared to the ache that sits in the middle of her chest.

Her soulmate knows. She doesn't want to think of her soulmate going through that hell with her. She can still feel the blood sticking to her hands, and there's enough blood in her soulmate's life already. Blood and death; Andrews' life slipping through Maria's fingers as she pressed them to the gaping wound in his chest.

She couldn't save him. She couldn't save any of them.

Her team is gone. She's alone and her soulmate knows.

 

**·32·**

The moment her soulmate enters the helicarrier's bridge, Maria _knows_. Maria knows because, for a split second, she can see herself with her back turned towards her soulmate, her hands folded together behind her.

She turns sharply, and their eyes meet across the bridge; Maria likes to imagine that for just one second the Black Widow freezes. Romanoff is the first to look away, her movements all swagger as she strolls around the bridge like nothing life-altering just happened.

Maria can barely hear Fury's commands over the blood rushing in her ears, and she can't help but stare after the spy.

"Agent Hill!"

She startles and quickly turns her attention to her commanding officer, but the back of her neck prickles, and she's never felt so self conscious before in her life. It's an effort of will that keeps her hands steady and keeps her voice even, but somehow she gets through.

She even manages not to show her disappointment when she realises the Black Widow has long since disappeared.

 

It's the middle of the night when the knock comes, but Maria isn't surprised. She opens the door and the Black Widow slips inside, quickly shutting the door behind her and leaning back against it.

They should say something. After all these years, Maria should have at least been able to come up with an opening line, but her mind is a complete blank, and she'd reduced to staring like an idiot.

"You're Natasha Romanoff."

Romanoff raises an eyebrow, and Maria curses herself for how stupid that sounded.

"The Black Widow."

"I'm aware," Romanoff says coolly, but Maria can see the flicker of something behind her eyes.

"My soulmate," she adds.

Romanoff whispers something in Russian, and she shifts away from the door, moving almost like a predator into Maria's personal space.

Maria wants to back up, but she pushes down on the urge, her eyes meeting Romanoff's as the woman studies her.

"Are you standing to attention, Agent Hill?" Romanoff sounds amused, and Maria realises that she is.

She quickly lets her hands to fall by her side. They feel useless there, and she flushes with embarrassment. "It's Maria."

Romanoff laughs, and it should be cruel, but her expression is soft and her fingers are gentle as she tentatively to touches Maria's face.

"Maria," Natasha repeats, and there's warmth in the way she says the name.

There's warmth everywhere, and Maria sucks in a breath as she realises their connection is still there and it's not warmth she's feeling. Whatever it is, she has never felt it in any of the memories, but she sees it now in Natasha's eyes, feels it in the fingers on her face, and it resonates through her. It resonates through both of them, and she can feel Natasha's emotions as clearly as she can feel her touch.

It brings a smile to her lips, and she can feel the relief radiating off of Natasha. It's mixed with disbelief and so much more Maria feels dizzy trying to make sense of them all, but it's regret that changes Natasha's expression. It's regret that lingers in her touch.

It sits between them, heavy and filled with memories that Maria has carried with her. "I am so sorry for the life you had to see," Natasha whispers as she rubs her thumb over Maria's cheekbone.

"I'm not."

Maria doesn't hesitate, not even when Natasha freezes up at the words, her eyes are wide and startled.

Maria has worried about her soulmate, she has missed her, she has feared for her and even hated her for a foolish moment, but she never regretted her. Natasha shudders, her hand falling away from Maria's face, and Maria is scared because she can feel _it_ breaking inside of Natasha.

It shatters in a million pieces and Maria grabs at Natasha, fingers taking hold of her waist, but Natasha isn't trying to get away. Maria doesn't know how it happens, how she ends up with Natasha's arms and legs wrapped around her, Natasha's breath hot against the crook of her neck.

"You don't hate me." The words are whispered against her skin, and Maria can feel them vibrate through Natasha's body.

"Of course not." Her arms tighten around her, and she presses a kiss to Natasha's shoulder. It's a small and silly gesture, and her lips don't even touch skin, but Natasha shivers and nuzzles closer in response. "I couldn't."

In a moment, this will fade. Soulmates don't keep the connection once they find each other, but right now, Maria can see everything. She can see each memory they've shared, can see how they shaped and bent around each other.

They don't make each other whole. There's too many parts of themselves that have been torn away. They're broken and nothing can fix that, but they're not meant to. They never were.

Maria doesn't mind. She doesn't think it even matters. Not when Natasha finally kisses her and all the pieces fit together. Not perfectly, because they're not perfect. There are gaps and edges and loose ends, but they'll grow together and they'll heal over because they were always meant to fit.


End file.
